


Breathe Into Me

by GasolineGhuleh



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: F/M, Grinding, Kissing, Shotgunning, Smoking, Star Gazing, sharing a cigarette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:22:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26240029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GasolineGhuleh/pseuds/GasolineGhuleh
Summary: A night of star gazing with Papa turns into sharing a smoke, and then something more.
Relationships: Papa Emeritus III/Reader
Kudos: 19





	Breathe Into Me

It’s a cloudless night, and the moon hung overhead as if hung by the Gods themselves. Stars twinkled across the black field and the constellations were fully visible. The only thing blocking your view is the boughs of the large willow tree above you, but it was a welcome sight. Beside you, Papa Emeritus the Third lounges back on a blanket using his arm as a pillow as he looks up at the night sky. A cigarette, unlit, rests between his lips as his other hand fiddles with the lighter.

“Merde,” he curses softly. “Cara, I am out of fluid. Can you light me?” He turns his head towards you and you smile at him softly- his two-toned gaze and raven locks of hair looked especially radiant in the light of the moon. His papal paint was, as always, immaculately done and seemed to glow under the stars. 

“Of course, Papa.” You dig your own lighter out of your coat pocket and flick it as Papa sits up and directs his cigarette to the flame. It lights quickly and he lays back down, groaning as the first hit of smoke hits his lungs. “You should really tell Secondo you’ve started smoking again, you know.”

“Feh.” Papa waves his hand dismissively, crooking up one side of his mouth a wry grin. “What he doesn’t know, eh?” He takes a second drag of the cigarette, pulling it from his mouth and looking at it in contemplation. “Such a small thing for such pleasure.” You nod, preoccupied with digging through your own pockets for your pack. When you come up empty you look longingly at his.

“Do you have another, Papa? I left mine in your chambers I think.” Instead of offering you the cigarette like you expected, Papa pats his thighs and motions you on top of him. Used to his odd desires by this point you hike your habit up around your waist and sling a leg over his lap, settling in comfortably on his pelvis. 

“This is my last one, cara. We share, I think.” Papa takes a long drag from the cigarette, the end of it glowing orange-hot and only increasing your desire for one. You start to whine that he’s wasting it when his hand comes to the back of your head and pulls you down, sealing your lips together in a scorching kiss. Before you can comprehend what he’s doing, the smoke fills your own lungs and the heady feeling of nicotine sweeps through you. You sit back up and exhale, surreptitiously moving your hips on his.

“Fuck, Papa. I haven’t done that since I was in Catholic school.” Papa huffs out a surprised laugh and moves the hand from behind his head to your upper thigh, his thumb caressing dangerously close to your sex. You grind your hips down into his again, eliciting a slight moan from him this time. Leaning down slowly you allow your hair to fan out like a curtain around his face, creating the feeling of being hidden from the world. You press the ghost of a kiss against his lips and he returns in kind, neither of you wanting to break the moment of the just-barely-there sensuality. 

“This feels like high school, si?” Papa whispers against your lips, the caress of his against yours eliciting a kind of butterfly feeling in your stomach. Against all odds, something inside of you feels that this is dangerously close to becoming too intimate. Sure, the two of you have gone farther but nothing with this type of unspoken feeling so evident between you. Hoping to dispel the feeling tugging at your heart you sit up on him again, wiggling your hips once more.

“I never knew you went to high school. I thought all of the Emeritus clan went to some kind of posh Satanic private school up in the mountains, where you dress in cloaks and study Latin and spell casting.” You’re only slightly joking. 

“Si, si.” Papa’s thumb strokes your upper thigh nonchalantly as he speaks. “It was a private high school, but not a religious one. Not bad, looking back. Many nights under the stars then, cara…” He drifts off slightly, clearly in thought. You clear your throat and he speaks again. “Forgive your Papa. I haven’t considered that in years. All a part of the past, eh?” You hum your agreement and tilt your head back, eyes searching the void of space before you speak.

“I tried to forget mine. Too much time spent wandering and not chasing what I really wanted.” You finger your Grucifix hanging at your neck and return your gaze to Papa, dispelling the previous conversation with a wave of your hand. “Hit me again,” you say, acutely aware of how desperate your voice sounds. From the need for nicotine? From the closeness of your Papa? Or from the feeling deep in your gut of words left unsaid? You can’t be sure.

“But of course, mia dolce.” Papa inhales from the last of the cigarette and stubs it out on the ashtray he had brought with him before gripping the front of your habit and tugging you in none too gently. His lips collide with yours and you moan unbidden, inhaling from him as your tongue sweeps along his. You pull away to exhale, gyrating your hips on his as you watch the smoke dissipate into the cold night air. 

Papa’s hands both come to your hips now, pulling and pushing your hips over his and gripping you so hard you know you’ll bruise come morning. His eyes flick between your own and your hips gliding along the length of his cock, swollen and heavy in his pants. Papa’s breath is coming faster now as his eyes go half-lidded. 

“You know you are playing with fire, yes?” Papa murmurs to you, his thumbs caressing your hips with each move that you make. You nod but continue moving along him, reveling in the sounds he’s beginning to make. Some small part of you wants to take him inside of you and chase your own pleasure but this is almost as good- having him helpless below you and beginning to thrust up just slightly, betraying his need to cum. 

“Then burn me, Papa.” You lean down over him, bringing your hands to his chest and bearing down on his cock with your cunt. In the back of your mind you know that your slick has more than likely soaked through your panties and is ruining his pants, but you’re past caring. As you lean all the way down over him to kiss and nip at his throat, his arms wrap around your waist as he thrusts slightly against you.

“Brave words from someone who is afraid to speak a feeling, eh, cara?” Your eyes widen slightly as Papa pulls your face to his, bringing his knees up so you’re nestled on his hips comfortably. “Do not pretend to not know. This is something.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours once more and you let him, kissing him back as you remember yourself. The kiss deepens and you continue to move on him as you bite his lip, licking the small hurt afterwards. He groans into your mouth and you pull back from him slowly, making deliberate eye contact and taking a deep breath.

“I love you, my Papa.” His eyes widen and you can feel his cock jerk under you as he cums, his breath almost punched out of him by both the admission and the orgasm. You move your hips on him until he hisses from over sensitivity and stills you with his hands. Papa lays still for a moment, breathing deeply and searching your eyes with his two-toned gaze. One hand comes up to tuck your hair behind your ear as he smiles at you.

“And I, you, bella.” He’s quiet for a moment as he plays with your hair before dropping his arm back to the blanket and gesturing at himself. “I should clean, no? Perhaps not a good idea to hide your cigarettes...I thought this would be eh...neater than it turned out to be.”

There’s a moment of silence before you burst out laughing, toppling sideways off of him and onto your half of the blanket, face split by a mirthful grin. Papa pushes your shoulder lightly and mutters something about ‘no laughing’ and how he’ll ‘get you back’ later. 

As the laughter fades you look up at the stars, and feel peace.


End file.
